


Breaking Point

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after end of season 2.<br/>Nearly a year into France’s war with Spain and d’Artagnan has become the focus of a Spanish captain.</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Athos' tent on the battlefield near Spain's borders_

“Where the hell’s d’Artagnan?” Athos roared over the sounds of cannon fire.

“He ain’t been seen for the better part of the day,” Porthos had been worried for their pup after they got separated but in the heat of battle wasn’t able to keep track of d’Artagnan.

“Aramis?” Athos snapped at the marksman who he could see was just as weary as Porthos. It had been a heavy day of fighting for all of them with casualties on both sides.

“I’ve looked and asked questions and none of the regiment have seen him.” There was deep sorrow etched in his face as he locked eyes with Athos and Aramis had to look away from the anguish written there.

“Could be d’Artagnan’s helpin' some of our wounded out in the front line,” Porthos offered, praying he was right.

“Non!” Athos growled. “He knew I needed him back here. We were to go over our strategy for tomorrow.” Afraid to voice the growing dread in his stomach, Athos would never acknowledge d’Artagnan had met his death on the battlefield until he saw the lad’s bloody body with his own eyes.

“Athos!” Rene rushed into the tent, out of breath from running. “I was talking with Lazare and Marin just now and they told me d’Artagnan had been taken prisoner by the Spanish.”

“Merde!” Athos swore. “Why wasn’t I informed of this right away!” he demanded. “We could have possibly saved him!”

“There was too much going on at the time and the men couldn’t get back to you,” Rene felt just as badly that they lost d’Artagnan. Everyone understood that when Athos stood down as captain one day that d’Artagnan would be the obvious choice to replace him. Now Rene wasn’t sure what the future held in store for any of them.

“Athos,” Aramis stepped forward, placing a hand on his friend’s arm, “Porthos and I will go look for him ourselves.” He glanced over at Rene, giving him a short nod to let him know it was all right to leave them.

“Non,” Athos said quietly, the fire going out of him. “I cannot spare either of you.”

“But what about d’Artagnan?” Porthos was shocked. This wasn’t the Athos he used to know. The Athos of old would be tearing the place apart, or in this case the battlefield, looking for their lost lamb.

“If d’Artagnan remains alive he will find his way back to us,” Athos glanced at each of his brothers. Their solemn expressions reflected his own. But he was the one in command and damn it Athos could not push aside his duties for one man. Even if that one man was d’Artagnan, whom he loved like a son.

“And if he doesn’t?” Porthos asked gruffly, still not believing what he was hearing.

“Then the boy’s a _casualty_ of war,” Athos turned his back to them and walked back over to a table covered with a pile of maps.

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this?” Aramis whispered, shaking his head at Porthos. Feeling his large friend’s hand on his back ushering him out of the tent, Aramis planted his feet firmly on the ground refusing to move a step further. “Are you all right with his decision then?”

“Non,” Porthos shrugged. “But for now we have to obey orders.”

“This is d’Artagnan we’re talking of leaving out there to fend for himself!" Aramis was beside himself with anger. Anger at this damn war, anger at all the death surrounding him, and now anger at Athos.

“I’m all for deserting later to find the whelp if you are?” Porthos’ dark eyes were grave, but he was serious about abandoning their positions if need be.

“Hold that thought then,” Aramis nodded, “it may well come to that.”

+++ _+_

_Spanish camp, capitan’s tent_

“Finally we meet, young d’Artagnan,” Capitan del Rio walked in a circle around the Musketeer.

A little worse for wear but still on his feet, d’Artagnan glowered at the Spanish captain. “And you are?”

Bowing slightly, he grinned. “Capitan Diego del Rio at your service, young one.” With a nod at his men they released their hold on d’Artagnan but were never far away in case he would try to escape.

“Why am I still alive?” D’Artagnan was no fool. When the attack came on the squad he was in charge of, nearly everyone had been either severely wounded or killed but him. Now he knew why.

“Even I have heard of your prowess with a sword and your fierce heart in battle,” Capitan del Rio chuckled. “I have need of such men in my own regiment.”

“I serve King Louis and France,” d’Artagnan spat, “I would never serve Spain!”

“We will see, my young soldier.” Snapping his fingers, the men standing guard over their prisoner took him back outside.

Staring at nothing in particular, Capitan del Rio thought about the new drug that had yet to be tested and that d’Artagnan would be an excellent subject to work on. Perhaps soon the young Musketeer would be changing his tune.

++++

_Another section of the Spanish camp, several days later_

“He is strong, this caballero,” Garcia told his companion as they observed d’Artagnan’s angry eyes on them.

Knowing enough Spanish to get by, d’Artagnan thought to correct his guards. “I am not a knight. I am a king’s Musketeer.”

“All means the same to us,” Lopeze laughed nudging Garcia in the side. “Two days of starving you hasn’t dulled your tongue, eh?”

“It never will,” d’Artagnan retorted, pulling at the chains that bound his wrists together behind his back. He was not at full strength, weakened by several days of going without food. They gave him just enough water to survive on. The leg irons were heavy and the chain wrapped around his chest that held him in his chair bit into his skin. Escape would not be possible he thought and wished his friend Porthos were here to break the chains apart.

“Wonder if the capitan is going to use the water torture or the hot coals next,” Garcia mused out loud to worry their young friend here.

“I doubt it because neither of those work fast enough for his liking,” Lopez said. “He won’t use the rack either because he needs this one in good condition if he’s to fight with us.”

“Never will I fight for Spain as long as there's breath in my body!” d’Artagnan shouted.

Tired of the young Musketeer’s voice, Lopez reached over for a rag to tie around d’Artagnan’s mouth. “That will give us some peace and quiet for a little while,” he sniggered.

“There’s always the strappado,” Garcia said with relish. “Then again, we don’t want to pull his arms out of their sockets. Too much bother popping them back in and then he’d be of no use to us for months.”

“Then if we can’t do any of those things how does the capitan expect us to turn him?” Lopez was quite fond of using heated metal pincers or even thumbscrews on his victims. To find he wouldn’t be able to do any of that disturbed him.

“I will go see him now to find out,” Garcia said. “Stay here with him until I come back.”

“Of course,” Lopez smirked. “Where else would I be,” he grabbed a fist full of d’Artagnan’s long hair and pulled it back viciously. “Eh, ninito.”

++++

_Capitan’s tent_

Having been informed from Garcia that starving the boy hadn't brought about any changes in their prisoner's demeanor, Capitan del Rio was not surprised. The young Musketeer was a Gascon after all, and having met some during his lifetime, had to admit that they could go out of their way for a good fight and still blame it on the other person. So del Rio knew stronger methods were called for. Taking out a small kit from his cabinet he opened it and grinned to himself. Its contents were simple, holding only several bottles filled with a dark colored liquid along with several syringes. “Oh I think I have just the thing in mind.”

++++

_Two months later_

“Athos,” Aramis said softly.

Looking weary beyond belief, along with a deep sadness in his eyes, he glanced upward from his papers to look at Aramis. “What is it?”

Being in command was nothing new to his old friend, but with the loss of d’Artagnan it seemed that Athos had changed dramatically over the past several months. Whereas Aramis or Porthos could usually make Athos laugh, it didn’t work anymore. This man in front of him resembled the comte of old who hid in a bottle, having to wake himself up by dunking his head in a bucket of water. Though there were no wine bottles to be seen nor any bucket in the vicinity. “I was almost not going to tell you this as we have had so many false reports before,” he couldn’t help but notice Athos’ head snap up, hope shining in his blue eyes, “but there’s been another sighting of him.”

Getting up from his chair so fast that he appeared but a blur as he ran over to Aramis, grabbing him by the doublet, Athos shook him. “Where?”

Placing his hand on top of his brother’s, Aramis winced. “If reports are correct, d’Artagnan’s with the Spanish over by the north side of where we are camped.” When Athos started to turn around, Aramis hand on his arm stopped his momentum. “Athos, the report states that d’Artagnan was in Spanish uniform fighting along side them.”

Standing stock still in disbelief, Athos stared dumbly at Aramis. “He would never willingly fight for Spain,” he jabbed a finger in Aramis’ chest. “You know that as well as I.”

“Oui, but perhaps they turned him somehow in some way.” Aramis wondered what torture the boy had undergone to have him fight against his own country.

“Get Porthos now!” Athos ordered. “Along with Rene, Perceval, Jasque and Franceis. We ride to free our brother!”

++++

_Area north of the French camp where a small skirmish was being fought_

Gazing through his spy glass, Porthos’ growls deepened causing the younger Musketeers to stare in concern at each other. “It’s d’Artagnan all right. What I don’t understand is why he’s fightin’ alongside that scum.” Feeling Aramis’ hand on his shoulder he shrugged it off. “I ain’t happy. I just want our pup brought back here where he belongs.”

“As do we all, mon ami,” Athos nodded. “He seemed relatively unharmed.”

“Doesn’t mean they didn’t torture him while they had d’Artagnan in their crafty hands,” Aramis snarled.

Stabbing his men with a look Athos normally reserved for the enemy, he paced in front of them. “You all know what to do,” he held out his hand and waited for the others to join his.

“ _All for one and one for all_!” they chimed out.

“Bring d’Artagnan home,” Athos added before they all charged into the battle ahead.

++++

Curses filled the air blue and left the Musketeers shaken as d’Artagnan had fought them all the way. He didn’t seem to recognize any of them, especially the inseparables.

Wiping the spittle from his face, courtesy of d’Artagnan, Athos’ anger grew. “Aramis, take him back to my tent and strap him down on my cot. I want you to examine him.”

“Of course,” Aramis turned to Porthos and the other men. “I’ll need help getting d’Artagnan back to camp. Come with me.” Aramis didn’t need to wait, he knew his orders would be followed to the letter as he headed back toward camp.

Lagging behind, Athos worried that they may have won the battle for d’Artagnan but bringing him back home may take longer than he thought.

++++

Screaming abuse at his old friends, d’Artagnan only wanted one thing and that was to be free so he could stick these French bastards with his sword that they had removed from him. He observed the faces of the ones they called Porthos and Aramis. Whenever they looked at d’Artagnan they seemed sad, not angry as one would when in the presence of an enemy. It confused him.

When Aramis approached him, d’Artagnan tried to wriggle away from the man’s touch but the one called Porthos grabbed his head to keep it in place so he couldn’t even head butt the Musketeer if he had wanted too. But he found his fears unfounded as the man just seemed to be checking him over. Perhaps Aramis thought he was injured. It was a strange way to treat a captive he mused. If these men had been in their Spanish camp their wounds would go untreated. And if they were not wounded they would be tortured for their information.

With a nod at Porthos, Aramis took his comrade by the arm and stood slightly away from d’Artagnan. “He has puncture marks along both sides of his arms and even some on his neck.”

“Drugs?” Porthos wanted to howl to the heavens at how unfair this had been to d’Artagnan.

“It would seem so, mon fre’re,” Aramus murmured low. “And without knowing the dosage given or for how long they treated d'Artagnan with it," he threw his hat on the ground in frustration, "I can't even make a proper guess as to what it will take to bring him back to the man he used to be." Aramis bent to pick up his hat, exchanging a worn look with Porthos. "But whatever it was, it was strong enough to make d’Artagnan forget us and all that he had fought for.”

“He’ll come back to us,” Porthos announced gruffly. “How could our whelp forget the three of us?”

“Easily,” Athos’ dark tone filled the small tent. “I heard what you just said as I walked in,” he placed his hands on his hips and stared over at the boy. “Whatever it takes we’ll make damn sure d’Artagnan remembers he is a Musketeer!”

“Perhaps we should send him back to Paris where our doctors could treat him,” Aramis suggested. “Because I’ve never dealt with this type of situation before and have no knowledge of how to help our d’Artagnan.”

“Non!” Athos said forcefully. “He stays here with us... with familiar faces. That is the only way d’Artagnan will remember not only who he is but who and what we are to him.”

Knowing that was the end of that, Aramis groaned quietly to himself. This was going to be a long, hard road to travel.

++++

_A week later_

“Capitan del Rio will come for me and then you will be begging for mercy,” d’Artagnan laughed in the inseparable’s faces.

“Well if they were drugging him daily,” Aramis shrugged, “a week without any shots hasn’t done anything to improve d’Artagnan’s attitude toward us.” He glanced over at Athos' set face and winced. “Well, what did you expect? A miracle overnight?”

"Perhaps you're not praying to God _hard_ _enough_!" Athos retorted, glaring at Aramis. "You speak to the Almighty on a regular basis. Speak for d'Artagnan!" Athos turned smartly on his heel and marched away.

“Smooth, Aramis, really smooth,” Porthos grunted.

“Back to square one again,” Aramis shook his head in despair.

++++

_Three more weeks go by_

“God damn it!” Porthos roared. “He bit me!” Facing Aramis’ amused face, Porthos was livid. “It ain’t funny, Mis!”

“Oh from my end it is, mon ami,” Aramis' laughter filled the area as other Musketeers looked on in curiosity.

The longer d’Artagnan hadn’t received his treatments from Capitan del Rio, the more the young man seemed to become aware of who they were. But sadly today was not one of those days as d’Artagnan had struggled in Porthos’ strong arms as the bigger man thought it was time that the lad could walk about more freely. Bad decision apparently as d’Artagnan decided to bite the hand that fed him... literally.

Even Athos was amused and that usually took some doing considering the circumstances. “Porthos leave him alone.”

“It’ll be a pleasure,” Porthos snapped, walking away shaking his hand out. He slapped Aramis away when the medic tried to look at it. “You’ll only put that foul stuff on it that burns to Hades.”

Stifling a small amount of laughter, Athos watched his two friends go off. He waved away the other Musketeers. Athos needed to be alone with the boy.

“I know you’re scared still,” Athos tried to reach out to d’Artagnan but dropped his hand as the lad shied away from his touch. “None of us mean you any harm,” he huffed. “You have to know that by now.”

And d’Artagnan did know that, that’s what had him so confused in his mind. They all treated him with respect and tried to tell him that he was a Musketeer like them. More often than nought, d’Artagnan found himself in the company of Athos, Aramis and Porthos. He had never met any of them before he was brought here as their captive, yet they did seem familiar.

He wasn’t sorry for biting that bear of a man’s hand either. Porthos, the man was huge and aptly named. Though he had noted a softer side to the giant whenever he was with him. Aramis, for all his fancy airs, was an excellent marksman. They sometimes let d’Artagnan walk around the camp but always with armed Musketeers by his side. He had seen what Aramis could do with weapons and it was down right scary.

The last man who had been on his mind the most was Athos. There was something there... just out of reach. When he went to grab it, it would disappear. D’Artagnan would wake up out of a dream remembering laughter, drunken nights, burning flames of a home going up in ashes, a green eyed witch and a red haired angel. It would keep him awake at nights. But when he stared into Athos’ cold blue eyes, d’Artagnan shivered. He knew deep down he had been on the receiving end of that stare many a time. He just couldn’t put his finger on it which drove him crazy.

Remembering brought along with it pain, a pain so great in his head that d’Artagnan grabbed at it with both hands until tears dripped down his face. Then Athos was there, holding him up when his legs threatened to collapse beneath him. “ _Head over heart_ ,” he said so quietly that he knew Athos couldn’t have heard him.

“Say that again,” tears started to rain unchecked down Athos’ face as well but they were tears of relief. “Say it again, d’Artagnan.”

“ _Head... over... heart_ ,” d’Artagnan stuttered, “said I let my emotions rule my head. Not what a Musketeer should do.”

Hugging the young man close to him, Athos kissed d’Artagnan on the cheek. “I believe you’re on your journey home.”

Glancing up at Athos fearfully, d’Artagnan still wasn’t sure where that was. “ _Home_?”

“With us... myself, Porthos and Aramis,” Athos laughed and it felt good. He hadn’t had much of a reason to laugh since d’Artagnan's disappearance. “We are your famille, d’Artagnan, not the Spanish.” Athos was glad he hadn’t informed Treville of what had happened to d’Artagnan. He would not have enjoyed having the man write off d’Artagnan as a lost cause. Now it would be hoped that things could return to normal.

“It still feels strange,” d’Artagnan broke free of Athos’ firm hold on him. “Part of me longs to be by Capitan del Rio’s side and yet the other half knows my place is by yours.”

Clapping a hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder, Athos looked him straight in the eye. “Home is where your heart is, and your heart has always been with us.”

“Do you think Porthos will forgive me for biting his hand just now?” D’Artagnan’s face was filled with concern now that part of his memories were slowly coming back. That he did _that_ to his friend was unthinkable.

“Porthos has a huge heart,” Athos grinned. “Just like the rest of him.”

“Still, I will make my apologies,” d’Artagnan slowly smiled and felt good when Athos’ face lit up. “What?”

“It has been a long time since I’ve seen that smile,” Athos reached out again and grabbed the younger man in a fierce hug. “You have been greatly missed.”

“I think I’ve missed you and the others as well but didn’t know it,” d’Artagnan responded softly, sniffing a little as tears threatened once more.

Putting both hands on either side of d'Artagnan's face, Athos rested his forehead against the younger man's. "Our souls are tied together, petite frere," he smiled. "If you were truly lost to me I would not have had the courage to continue."

"Non," d'Artagnan disagreed. "I have seen you with the men. You would have never given up the fight, Athos. You're too strong for that."

"The only thing that kept me going were the thoughts that you were out there alive, needing to get back to me," Athos tapped the younger man's chest, near d'Artagnan's heart. "As long as that kept beating," Athos tapped his own heart, "so did mine."

Grabbing onto Athos' doublet, d'Artagnan sobbed into the older man's shoulder. Feeling the gentle touch of the man's fingers sliding through his hair, d'Artagnan burrowed further into Athos' arms.

"You just have to promise me one thing, d'Artagnan."

"Whatever it is, ask it of me, Athos."

"This del Rio has his eye on you," Athos frowned. "You are to never," he held up a finger, "I repeat never to be out of sight of your men at any given time," he ran a hand through his hair. "I do not think I could live through anything like what we've endured these past months."

"You fear he will try for me again?" d'Artagnan worried his lower lip until Athos tapped on it to stop him.

"He had his _prize_ within his grasp and we took it away," Athos arched both eyebrows high, "what do you think?"

Smiling, d'Artagnan nodded. "I will do my best to follow your orders, _my Captain_."

Grinning, Athos just wagged a finger at d'Artagnan's cheekiness. "At least del Rio didn't manage to curb you of your impudence, chiot."

Scratching at his head, d'Artagnan looked at Athos in confusion. "Do you not think I am too old to be called chiot now?"

"Never," Athos laughed at the mock outrage on the younger man's face. "You will forever be our young pup from Lupiac, Gascony." Slapping d'Artagnan on the back they left the tent to face their latest challenge. The future and the war looked brighter than it ever had before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have tried to find out on the internet but nothing so far as to where in the sixteenth/seventeenth century the king of France's Minister of War offices would be located.  
> So for my story, unless someone could tell me, I have it located in the Royal Palace.
> 
> See note at bottom.
> 
> ++++

_Battlefield near Spain's borders_ , outside Athos' command post

_Three months have passed since d'Artagnan's recovery from Capitan's del Rio's brainwashing_

"Porthos!" Athos called out to where the other man was helping their wounded into another tent designated for the injured.

"What's up?" Porthos had handed off the man he was helping to Rene.

"Is d'Artagnan about?" Athos stared at the missive he held in his hand. Glancing up at Porthos he noted the other man looking at it too. Slapping it against his other hand Athos satisfied Porthos' curiosity. "Treville needs the lad back in Paris."

"D'Artagnan ain't gonna like bein' separated from us," Porthos grunted. "I ain't gonna like it none either."

"Who isn't going to like what?" Aramis had seen his two friends conversing and had to find out if it was about anything important.

"Treville wants to see our whelp," Porthos saw the marksman's brows rise as Aramis frowned.

Rubbing his chin, Aramis shook his head with a slap to Porthos' back. "You're correct, mon fre're, d'Artagnan will not be happy."

As if his ears had been buring, d'Artagnan found his way over to the inseparable's side. Blood splattered his armor from the day's skirmishes as well it adorned d'Artagnan's dirty face. "Talking about me were we?" he  hummed lightly with a ready smile on his face for his brothers.

"Who else, mon ami," Aramis laughed. God alone knew they needed something to laugh about. With all this death and destruction around him, Aramis began to wonder if he had made the right decision in coming along with his friends to fight against Spain. Perhaps he shouldn't have changed his monk's robes for a Musketeer pauldron and blue cape so fast. Douai seemed more appealing than ever.

"D'Artagnan," Athos took the younger man by the arm and pulled him closer. Holding out the letter, Athos gave it to him. "Orders from Treville." Waiting for the lad to read its contents, Athos was not surprised when d'Artagnan's lips tightened together. Before the pup could voice his opinion about it, Athos forestalled him when he placed an arm around d'Artagnan's slim shoulder. "None of us like this any better, but Treville states that their Spanish prisoner will only speak with you."

"Must be someone pretty high up in the chain of command if they need our d'Artagnan to crack him," Aramis wiped the sweat off his forehead. It had been a good several months of bloody fighting on both sides since they had gotten d'Artagnan back from the Spanish captain del Rio's hands and none of them were eager to see d'Artagnan leave them.

"If I could I'd spare either Porthos or Aramis to go with you..."

"You need every man here," d'Artagnan finished for him. "It's a long journey to Paris," he shrugged, "but I'd make better time by myself anyway."

Remembering the pain of thinking the lad lost to them, Athos almost ignored Treville's orders but knew he couldn't follow his heart's wishes. "You'll leave as soon as you've rested and had a decent meal inside of you."

"Oui, papa," d'Artagnan grinned at Athos' mother henning. Enjoying the wild blush that covered the older man's face.

"I do know one thing, chiot," Athos drawled slowly as his blue eyes danced. 'I will not miss your cheekiness."

Feeling Porthos drawing him into a one arm hug, d'Artagnan rolled his eyes as he tried to pry himself out of the huge Musketeer's embrace. But his struggles only increased Porthos' tight grip on him.

"Athos will be like a bear with a sore head the entire time you're gone, whelp," Porthos laughed heartily.

"I for one will miss you all the more since your being gone means that Athos will constantly snipe at me," Aramis snorted. "So I hope Treville doesn't keep you in Paris overly long."

"He can always _snipe_ at Porthos," d'Artagnan offered with a grin in the bigger man's direction.

"Pffft!" Aramis waved his hand, "Athos wouldn't dare for fear Porthos would crush him with one hand."

Knowing the silent message all his friends were conveying to him, d'Artagnan's eyes threatened to overflow with the tears he held back. He knew what a great burden his capture had been for his brothers. Believing him either to be tortured or killed had to have been a heart wrenching experience for the older men. "I shall worry how you three will fare in the war without me to back you up," d'Artagnan teased, trying to lighten the mood as Aramis and Porthos had tried to do, more for Athos' sake than his own.

"Oh ho!" Porthos chuckled, cuffing d'Artagnan under the chin playfully. "I think our pup's getting too big for his britches."

"D'Artagnan's way past that point," Aramis dared a glance over at Athos and was relieved to see an answering smile on the older man's face. "If you aren't careful, Athos, the boy may replace you as captain before you know it."

"He's still too wet behind the ears for that to happen," Athos gazed at d'Artagnan's small pout. "Besides, I'm not ready to turn over the position to him... _yet_."

"I think I best go get cleaned up and rested as Athos suggested." D'Artagnan was getting restless listening to his friend's banter about him becoming the next head of the regiment. For d'Artagnan could only worry that it meant either Athos was too severely injured or had been killed. Or it could mean that for whatever reason his mentor had retired from service all together. None of those things appealed to him in the slightest and d'Artagnan found it better not to dwell on it. With a pleasant nod of farewell to them all he took his leave.

++++

_Royal Palace - Minister of War's office_

"Lad, it's good to see you," Treville greeted d'Artagnan with a brief hug.

"Likewise, sir," d'Artagnan noticed the age lines were more pronounced on Treville's face than they were before. Seemed this war had taken its tole on everyone it touched. "So who is your prisoner that I had to come all this way back home to see?"

"That's the damnest thing about all this!" Treville exploded. "He wears the uniform of a Spanish captain but refuses to talk with any of us," he stabbed d'Artagnan with a sharp look, "... only you."

On the alert now more than ever before, d'Artagnan's brows drew close together in concern. He knew Athos never told Treville about his capture or how the Spanish were able to turn him against his own country. He had a sinking feeling that it was all going to come out now if this captain turned out to be who he suspected. "Can I speak with him now?"

"Get some of Serge's good hot food into you first and then I'll take you to him later," Treville smiled. It made his heart glad to welcome the younger man back. It was going to be harder still to send the lad into the heart of fighting again after d'Artagnan's session with their prisoner was over. But Treville knew d'Artagnan wouldn't appreciate his protectiveness nor would Athos.

"I could eat," d'Artagnan nodded and left Treville's office heading for the canteen.

++++

_Royal Palace - dungeons below_

"Why in the world is your captive being held here?" D'Artagnan couldn't believe it when later, having met up with Treville again, he was informed that the prisoner was housed within the Louvre.

"Wasn't my idea I assure you," Treville snorted. "King Louis wanted this man kept close. After all he's our only _live_ Spanish captive that we've had in our hands since this war began."

Worry grew, forming a knot within his stomach, as d'Artagnan dreaded meeting this individual. Following Treville, d'Artagnan found himself going down below to the dank dungeons where a special cell had been prepared for the captive.

Coming face to face with the prisoner, d'Artagnan gazed at the older man through the cell bars. Eyes widened in recognition, d'Artagnan damned the circumstances that put him in this man's path once more.

"We meet again, young caballero," Capitan Diego del Rio chuckled.

"As I once told your man Garcia... I am not a _knight_ but a king's Musketeer." D'Artagnan could only wonder at what Treville must be thinking about this exchange.

Shooting a wry glance at Treville, del Rio's laughter faded away. "You would probably like to know how d'Artagnan and I met," he tilted his head slightly as he tried to gauge the other man's reactions through the cell's solid bars. When del Rio glanced at the younger man again he murmured low in his native tongue. "Obedecer mis ordenes."

Blinking his eyes a few times as if he had awakened from a daze, d'Artagnan's frame stiffened. Slowly he turned around to face Treville who had been watching them, obviously puzzled as to del Rio's words to him. Pulling out his poignard, d'Artagnan took advantage of Treville being unprepared for his attack as he pushed the other man hard against the wall. "You will release Capitan del Rio at once!" he snarled quietly so as not to attract any guards their way.

Realizing he couldn't do anything at the moment but obey d'Artagnan's demands, Treville detached a ring of keys he had clipped onto his belt and handed them over to the lad. Observing d'Artagnan throw the keys to his prisoner, Treville's anger grew.

Unlocking his cell door, del Rio smirked as he approached Treville who still had d'Artagnan's poignard pressed against his throat. "I hope you enjoy your accommodations as much as I have." Nodding at the young man, del Rio commanded him as if d'Artagnan were one of his own soldiers. "Lock him up."

Staring at d'Artagnan through the cell door, Treville couldn't watch the lad leave with their Spanish prisoner. "Son, do you know what you're doing? This is a treasonous act against France!"

"I am merely obeying my capitan," d'Artagnan's blank gaze locked onto Treville's shrewd ones.

"Capitan?" Treville shot a blistering look at del Rio. "You will not leave Paris alive! I'll see to that personally!" He knew deep down that d'Artagnan's behavior was somehow tied up with this Spanish captain.

"I'm sure you shall _try_ ," del Rio sneered. "But I do not believe you would want to see anything untoward befall d'Artagnan in the meantime, eh?"

"Whatever you've done to him," Treville spat, "can be undone!" For he could tell the lad's mind was under some form of control by del Rio. "If you bring any harm to d'Artagnan your suffering will be great I can assure you of that!"

Snorting, del Rio retorted, "You'll have to catch me first."

++++

Note:

Obedecer mis ordenes means Obey my orders.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See notes at end.
> 
> ++++

_Royal Palace - Treville's office_

Having hollered himself hoarse Treville finally was rescued, to his chagrin, by several Red Guards who had been on duty in the area. As soon as Treville made it back to his office he began barking out orders, sending four different Musketeer squads out to capture Captain del Rio. He held back the information that d'Artagnan had helped the Spaniard escape, so his men were under the assumption that the Gascon was a prisoner.

Telling one of the Musketeers to stand by, Treville scribbled a short letter, sealed it and handed it off to Gerard. "See that missive gets to Captain Athos immediately!" Running a hand down his weary face, Treville wondered about d'Artagnan's actions in all of this and if Athos knew anything about it. There was no sense wasting time on his concerns at this point, he'd know more when Athos arrived back here.

++++

 _Athos command post near the Spanish borde_ r

A rider just delivered  this for you, Athos," Aramis casually threw the missive on Athos' desk. "Said it was urgent from Treville."

"Make sure the man gets something to eat and rests for the day before his journey back to Paris," Athos ordered and listened as Aramis left the tent briefly to direct his wishes to Jacques. Staring down at the letter where it laid, Athos finally picked it up. Breaking the seal, Athos swore as he read the contents. "Merde!" Removing his hat he threw it on the ground in frustration. "I don't believe this!"

When Aramis came back inside he obviously knew the letter didn't contain anything good by the sounds of it. Hearing a sleight noise beside him, Aramis turned his head and found Porthos standing there. "You're getting better at that."

"Better at what?" Porthos grunted, wiping the combination of sweat and blood from his face.

"Sneaking up on people," Aramis teased lightly.

"I always was good at it," Porthos glared back.

"If you say so," Aramis hummed, seeing the scowl that darkened the larger man's features at his ribbing. Then he gazed back at Athos and worried anew. The older man looked like he had aged ten years after reading that letter.

"What's wrong with em'?" Porthos caught the minute shake of Aramis' head and clamped his mouth shut.

"The prisoner Treville needed d'Artagnan to speak too was none other than Captain del Rio," Athos grimly announced, seeing dismay equal to his own appear on his brother's faces.

"We ain't gonna like this are we?" Porthos' growl deepened.

"According to Treville, del Rio spoke several words in Spanish to d'Artagnan and then," Athos stopped, his lips thinned into a straight line as he stared up at the top of his tent, "then d'Artagnan turned on Treville with a dagger to the man's throat and helped the Spaniard escape."

"Sainte Marie Me're de Dieu!" Aramis exclaimed and crossed himself. "D'Artagnan was fine after the drugs left his system." Aramis eyes were wild as he thought upon the ramifications of what's transpired. "We all know that!"

"Apparently not," Athos dry retort was not lost on Aramis. Bending down, Athos picked up his hat and straightened the brim. "Treville requests my immediate presence back at the palace."

"He's obviously got half the garrison out lookin' for em' I expect," Porthos exchanged a grave look with Aramis.

"And Treville's going to wonder why Athos never informed him of d'Artagnan's capture in the first place," Aramis removed his hat to run a hand through his sweaty curls. "Fine mess we're all in now."

"Yeah," Porthos grunted, "but it's Athos who'll lose his position over this."

"Damn the position!" Athos shouted, totally losing control of the hard won, stoic demeanor he was known for.

"It's quite a journey back to Paris," Aramis pointed out. "That would mean d'Artagnan's been in del Rio's hands longer than I'd like."

"Long enough to have reached the Spanish border," Athos appeared hopeful when thinking more about it. "Captain del Rio's camp is just over the rise and I'm sure that's his destination."

"What are we waitin' here for then?" Porthos grinned. "Treville can wait a might longer for his captain to report ta him."

"Let me go talk to Rene before we leave," Athos grabbed his weapons, put on his hat and with Aramis and Porthos following left his tent.

++++

_Near the Spanish border_

The entire time d'Artagnan had been with Capitan del Rio he struggled with finding his own identity. He was a king's Musketeer... wasn't he? Not a Spanish soldier. So why then did he blindly follow this man's orders? Even to the point of holding a dagger to Treville's throat, threatening to kill him. D'Artagnan's head ached all the more whenever those thoughts nagged at him. He wore the cloak and pauldron of a Musketeer, and he clearly remembered the day he won his commission. How happy he had been and his friends for him when the king said those precious words that sealed his fate. Something was dreadfully wrong inside of him but d'Artagnan didn't know what it was.

"D'Artagnan, we are almost near my command now," del Rio told him as he guided his stolen horse along a rocky incline. Seeing that his words brought about no response from the younger man he snapped out, "Obedecer mis ordenes." Frowning when he noticed d'Artagnan still had no reaction to his trigger words, del Rio realized the lad was fighting against his programming.

Struggling against the Spaniard's orders, d'Artagnan felt like his head was going to explode. But the officer's command was too overwhelming for him to deny and so d'Artagnan found himself sitting straighter in the saddle and deferring to del Rio once again. "I heard you, Capitan."

"Good," del Rio smiled. "Keep it that way."

What Capitan del Rio didn't realize was that three furious Musketeers were lying in wait for them just past a well covered, tree-lined area.

As d'Artagnan and the Spaniard rounded a bend they pulled up their horses as the inseparables stepped out of their hiding places to form a fortress-like wall before them.

"And who might you gentlemen be?" Capitan del Rio was not the least afraid of being outnumbered since he had the young Musketeer by his side willing and quite capable of defending him.

"Come to us, d'Artagnan," Athos calmly said as Aramis and Porthos had their muskets and pistols trained on the Spaniard.

Confused, d'Artagnan shook his head, stuttering out, "I... I." The words just would not come to him.

"D'ARTAGNAN!" Athos damned himself for trying to play Mr. Nice. _Nice_ wasn't going to bring his boy back to him. "Whatever he's done to you... remember you are still a Musketeer!"

Smirking, del Rio seemed pleased that d'Artagnan didn't acknowledge the man's words. "It would seem that you know my young companion. Is that not so?"

"We're the king's Musketeers, as if you didn't know!" Porthos growled. "And you've got one of our own we want back!"

Smiling, Aramis tipped his head back with one hand and kept the other on his musket trained at del Rio's head. "Exactly as my big friend so charmingly put it," his dark eyes turned dangerous. "Let d'Artagnan go!"

Noting d'Artagnan's pale complexion as rivulets of sweat dripped down the young man's face, Athos' eyes narrowed. "D'Artagnan!" he called out more quietly this time. "Do you know who we are?"

Shaking his head back and forth, d'Artagnan's hand trembled as he reached for his pistol. Pointing it at Athos, his hand shook so badly it was a wonder he hadn't dropped his weapon yet. Grimacing, he touched his other hand to his head as pain spiked through it. "ATHOS!" d'Artagnan cried out, tears running unchecked down his lean face. "I'M SORRY, MON FRE'RE!"

To Athos' horror, and that of his comrades, his heart stopped beating when he saw d'Artagnan turn his own pistol on himself. "NO! D'ARTAGNAN!... ARRETE!" The report from the weapon echoed all around Athos bringing him to his knees.

++++

_Notes:_

Since I have no clue as to where the Spanish border actually is to France (or should I say where our Musky boys are to the border) I can't calculate the traveling distance to Paris and back. That's why I mentioned that it was a _long journey_.

 _Sainte Marie Me're de Dieu! -_ Holy Mary Mother of God _  
_

_Obedecer mis ordenes_ \- obey my orders

 _Arrete_ \- Stop

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I left everyone, or nearly everyone, in a state of shock and a few of you mentioned to hurry up with the next chapter... here it is. Hope everyone’s heart has settled down for the moment so you can read this. LOL!  
> This one will be coming to a close soon as I want to concentrate on my other 3 stories. I only continued this for a few that mentioned they would like to see more.  
> Happy reading!
> 
> ++++

_Near the Spanish border, where we left our fearful Musketeers_

Bent forward, hands on his knees, Athos wished he were dead along side of their youngest.

But there he was in for a shock. For had Athos glanced up it would be to see a _live_ d’Artagnan cradled in Aramis’ arms. What Athos had witnessed was d’Artagnan falling off his horse after the lad had shot himself. What he did not realize was at that exact moment d’Artagnan fired his pistol, Aramis had shot off his harquebus knocking d’Artagnan’s weapon from the younger man’s hand but not before it had done some damage first.

“Athos, the whelp’s alive,” Porthos gruff voice sounded shaky. He had his musket trained on Captain del Rio just wanting the officer to twitch the wrong way to give him a reason to blow the man’s head off. It would go a long way in paying the Spaniard back for the torment he had inflicted on d’Artagnan and them ever since the lad had fallen into del Rio’s dirty hands.

Slowly lifting his head back up, tears were still running down his face, Athos could only stare dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. He saw d’Artagnan wince as Aramis pressed on the younger man’s shoulder, blood flowing freely down d’Artagnan’s right arm, some of which even covered his chest. Athos couldn’t get up fast enough after seeing the sleight movement of the lad's body and ran over to drop on one knee beside Aramis. “How is this possible?” Athos extended a shaky hand to place it on d’Artagnan’s head.

“I shot d’Artagnan’s pistol out of his hand,” he sighed as he tried to staunch the blood that quickly soaked his blue sash he always wore. “But his weapon had still discharged at that point and hit d’Artagnan high in the upper part of his shoulder.”

“Boyo hasn’t woken up yet,” Porthos glared at the Spanish captain. “Yeah... you even blink wrong I’ll shoot ya.”

At this point del Rio was off his horse and had his hands tied behind his back, still trying to figure out how the tide had turned against him. Looking down at the unconscious Musketeer, he shook his head sadly. “That one has a very strong will.”

“Damn straight!” Porthos snorted. “Ya don’t know the half of it.”

“Aramis,” Athos’ hand had stayed put he wanted to stay connected to his young friend as long as possible, he needed too after the near tragedy that played out, “at the last second I know he fought the control over his own thoughts.”

“Oui,” Aramis nodded. “But at what cost? He tried to kill himself,” he hung his head down. “Merde! Can you even imagine how desperate d’Artagnan must have been to even consider doing something like that?”

“That there was no other option open to him at the time,” Athos whispered. “D’Artagnan didn’t want to bring harm to any one of us.”

“There are better ways than blowin’ a hole through your brain,” Porthos snapped. “Me and the whelp are gonna talk about his choices later when he’s feelin’ up to it.”

“On that note,” Aramis voiced, “I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but we need to get him back to our command so I can treat it properly.”

“I didn’t think to ask,” Athos brushed a few strands of unruly hair away from d’Artagnan’s slack face, “the wound?”

“Went clean through, merci Dieu!” Aramis kissed his cross and then stood up to go over to his horse, Belle, and got into the saddle. “Porthos, lift d’Artagnan up to me.”

“Non,” Athos shook his head. “D’Artagnan rides with me,” he announced firmly, daring Aramis to argue with him over this.

With d’Artagnan in his arms, Porthos stared from one brother to the other. “All right which one gets em’?”

Rubbing his forehead, clearly tired of all the drama, Aramis glanced at Athos’ set features. “Better give d’Artagnan to Athos before our brother has a nervous breakdown.”

Eyebrows shooting high at Aramis’ remark, Athos for once didn’t have a ready retort on his lips. He just wanted to feel d’Artagnan breathing against him. Athos knew, without a doubt, that as long as he lived the image of d’Artagnan shooting himself will forever be etched in his mind... and he had del Rio to thank for that.

“Porthos, give me a minute.” Striding over to where the Spaniard still stood, Athos drew back his right arm and gave the captain a round house punch to the face that laid the officer flat on his back. Which, considering he was trussed up, had to be a most uncomfortable state to be in.

“Feeling better, mon fre’re?” Aramis chuckled, despite the grave situation.

“Much,” Athos replied as he mounted Roger. “Now I’ll take our youngest.”

“About time,” Porthos grunted. “Whelp must have put on some weight when I wasn't lookin'." He maneuvered d'Artagnan into Athos' anxious arms as the older man held the lad tenderly in front of him.

"What about me?" Capitan del Rio cried out from his position on the ground.

Porthos grabbed the man by his jacket and lifted him up with one hand. "Hey, Aramis! How far would ya say we're from our command post?"

"About an hour give or take," Aramis mused. He knew what Porthos was up too.

"It's your lucky day!" Porthos crowed. "Ya get ta walk."

"This is absurd!" del Rio complained. "Is this how you treat all your prisoners?"

"Nah," Porthos chuckled, "only you so far." He shoved del Rio in front of Roulette. "Remember, I'll have my eyes on ya the entire time," he warned.

"Are we ready?" Athos drawled as he pulled d'Artagnan tighter to his chest. Seeing Porthos nodding, they set off.

++++

_Athos command post - medical tent_

"Has d'Artagnan awakened?"

"Athos, this is about the fifth time you've checked in the last hour." Aramis couldn't help but laugh at the annoyed look that crossed his friend's face.

Folding his arms he glowered at Aramis. "So for the _fifth_ time... is there any change?"

"Oui," Aramis smiled and stood away from the cot d'Artagnan currently occupied. "See for yourself."

Pulling up a stool, Athos sat beside the lad and stared into a pair of very confused brown eyes. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Grimacing as he tried to sit up, d'Artagnan was grateful for the supporting hands of both Athos and Aramis. "Like I _shot_ myself."

Allowing himself a small smile, Athos finally began to relax since this whole travesty began.

"In a few days I'm leaving with del Rio to see Treville." Pointing at d'Artagnan's bandaged shoulder Athos added, "Aramis said that your wound shouldn't give you too much trouble on the ride to Paris. But just in case I'll have Aramis pack some medical supplies to take along."

"Treville will probably decommission me after what I did back at the palace," d'Artagnan's eyes held great sadness.

"The minister is not a stupid man," Athos remarked with a smirk. "Treville probably figured out that your _mind_ was not your own at the time."

"Still, how can he possibly put his trust in me after this," d'Artagnan bit his lip. "I don't even trust myself."

"I do not want to hear you talk nonsense," Athos scoffed.

"What's _nonsense_ about nearly slitting the Minister of War's throat, eh?" d'Artagnan sneered.

Grabbing the younger man's chin in his hand, Athos shook it hard. "Get it through that thick, Gascon head of yours that we do not abandon our own! Not unless there is an absolute damn good reason for it!"

"I hope Treville sees it that way," d'Artagnan jerked his chin out of Athos' strong hold. "I'm more worried about him demoting you for hiding the fact that I was captured and under del Rio's control in the first place."

Laying his hand on d'Artagnan's good shoulder, Athos squeezed it. "Let us cross that bridge when we come to it."


	5. Finale!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, this is the finale! This ended longer than I wanted. But not as long as some. Hopefully it entertained the few who wanted to see more of Capitan Diego del Rio. 
> 
> ++++

_Musketeer Garrison_

Riding into the garrison with their prisoner in tow, Athos and d’Artagnan were greeted warmly by their fellow brothers-in-arms. Especially d’Artagnan, whom most thought had been a captive of the Spaniard del Rio.

Glancing at the silent Gascon, Athos’ eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking so hard upon?”

Sighing, d’Artagnan should have realized by now that he couldn’t hide anything from the man. “I keep replaying the lecture in my head from Porthos right before we left.”

Chuckling, Athos’ blue eyes twinkled. “Something along the lines of _he’ll shoot you himself if you ever pull a bonehead stunt like that again_ , I believe.”

“Uh huh,” d’Artagnan stared at the Spanish captain for a minute. “Porthos didn’t know what it was like battling against myself.”

Their horses were close together as they rode abreast of one another, leaving Athos free to lean over and clasp d’Artagnan carefully on the lad’s injured shoulder. “We’ve all more or less battled our own inner demons at one time or the other. Tis no shame in it.” Breaking the contact, Athos focused on returning Captain del Rio to Treville before anything else befell them.

++++

_Royal Palace - Minister of War’s office_

Knocking on the door, Athos was the first one inside as d'Artagnan followed behind. But Treville motioned to him for the younger man to go back out. Turning around Athos saw the disappointment written on the lad's face. "Treville most likely wants to hear my report before talking to you," he chucked d'Artagnan under the chin. "Now don't go do anything foolish while waiting to be called in."

"Me!" d'Artagnan's voice rose an octave, "do something _foolish_!" he snorted. "And here I thought you knew me so well." He left quietly after that but not before he heard Athos soft snort of disbelief following him.

++++

When d'Artagnan was allowed back inside the room he stood at attention before Treville while Athos' steady presence helped calm his heart down, which felt like it was ready to burst from his chest at any minute.

Stabbing d’Artagnan with a dubious eye, Treville’s gaze shifted over to Athos who was standing so close to the younger man that it gave the appearance of the duo being joined at the hip. “Stand down, Athos, I’m not going to do anything drastic to young d’Artagnan here.”

Those words did nothing to ease Athos’ discomfort nor d’Artagnan’s from what he could glean from the tightening of the lad’s jaw.

“This time I convinced King Louis to temporarily house del Rio in the Chatelet where he should have been the first time around,” Treville perched on the edge of his desk, arms folded as he casually studied d’Artagnan. “Athos explained to me what took place in regards to your capture while I had you waiting outside just now.”

“Apologies, Minister,” d’Artagnan couldn’t even look Treville in the eye, he felt so ashamed of his behavior regardless that he had no control over his actions at the time.

“I will have none of that, young man,” Treville said kindly noting d’Artagnan’s head lift up in surprise. “Much better.” Smiling fondly at the lad, he tried to make d’Artagnan feel more at ease. “I knew you were never a traitor to the crown and that’s why I told everyone, _including the king_ , that del Rio took you prisoner when he escaped.”

Sliding a sideway’s look over at Athos, d’Artagnan saw his friend nod in support. “I had no idea that was the story you concocted for His Majesty, sir,” d’Artagnan bowed his head in respect. “Merci,” his throat tightened in anxiety for what he was about to do. He had thought over this while he cooled his heels outside waiting and knew it was the correct thing to do. So, unsheathing his sword, d’Artagnan knelt down on one knee, his rapier held in his open palms. Reaching out towards Treville he waited for the minister to relieve him of it. “Still, I do not feel I should be entrusted to carry out any future duties of a Musketeer.”

“D’Artagnan,” Athos hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“The right thing,” d’Artagnan retorted strongly.

“Get up, d’Artagnan,” Treville ordered gently. Watching the younger man slowly rise to his feet, Treville locked eyes with his captain. “Athos also told me how you fought off del Rio’s programming,” he grinned. “Good to know us _Gascons_ can fight off anything, eh?” His remark caused d’Artagnan to duck his head shyly, not expecting praise such as this.

“I continually repeated the trigger words that Captain del Rio used on d’Artagnan nearly the entire length of our journey back here,” Athos explained. “I believe our lad’s deprogrammed himself quite admirably.”

“As of now, d’Artagnan,” Treville said, “you have a week’s leave to do with as you like. Rest well and at the end of that period you’ll go back with Athos.”

“I still have my command then,” Athos asked dryly. Seeing the funny look d’Artagnan sent his way, Athos fought off a smile.

“I should take the position off you for hiding the fact the lad was captured,” Treville rubbed his forehead with a finger. “Thing is I’d probably have done the exact same thing if I had been in charge and it happened to one of you,” he paused and held up a finger. “Still, do not do it again," he huffed. "There are only so many excuses I can come up with," Treville uttered wryly with a roll of his eyes.

Lips twitching, Athos bowed his head. “I will endeavor to avoid that at all costs, sir.”

“Now get out of here, both of you, before I change my mind about everything I just said,” Treville chuckled at the wide-eyed look the younger man sent his way as he watched Athos place a hand at the lad’s back, ushering him out the door.

++++

_Courtyard_

“I can’t believe we both got off so easy,” d’Artagnan waved at several Musketeers walking past that acknowledged him.

“You honestly thought otherwise, _chiot?_ ” Athos’ huff of laughter brought about a small scowl on d’Artagnan’s expressive features.

“I am not a _puppy_ anymore, Athos! No matter how much you may think otherwise,” d’Artagnan whined.

"Ah, but, _chiot_ ," Athos laughed at the outrage written on the younger one's face, "you are the _youngest_ in the Musketeer regiment and that will never change."

Grinning, d'Artagnan pointed to a very young looking recruit sparring off to the far right with Gerard. "Think so?" he chuckled. "That one looks barely sixteen years of age."

"Looks can be deceiving, pup," Athos snorted, "as you well know."

"Pfft!" d'Artagnan tried to ignore his friend's words.

"You have a week off," Athos reminded him, "make use of it."

"I want to sleep for an entire week," d'Artagnan yawned and stretched his arms up high.

"Then that is what you should do," Athos smiled. "Except for when I wake you to partake of breakfast, lunch and dinner."

"If you keep interrupting me like that I'll never get any sleep," d'Artagnan complained.

"You can not have it all ways," Athos snorted. "Or should I say you can not have it... _d'Artagnan's way_."

Wanting to change the subject, d'Artagnan asked, "What will you be doing during my time off?"

"I will be discussing tactics with Treville of course."

"Mmmmm, you probably wouldn't want a _chiot's_ opinion then," d'Artagnan hinted at all too obviously.

"What happened to _sleeping_ _the entire week aw_ ay?" Athos hid his amusement behind his gloved hand.

"I don't have to _sleep_ the entire time," d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

"I will speak with Treville about it," Athos looked at the lad, nodding his head to himself. Seeing d'Artagnan glance at him in question he said, "It would be good for you to become involved more in these matters. As one day it will be you in charge."

"But not for a very long time to come I hope," d'Artagnan was pleased that he would be included now. Yawning hugely that he near enough cracked his jaw and knuckling his eyes, d'Artagnan heard Athos burst out laughing.

"Tis hard not to compare you to a _petite chiot_ ," Athos grinned, "when you resemble one like you do now."

"Off with you, mon ami," d'Artagnan frowned. "I'm going to find my bed."

Watching the young man stride away Athos was full of pride in their youngest, knowing he watched one of the finest men he had ever known heading toward his destiny or in this case... his bed.

The End


End file.
